For a little love, you pay all your life
by Sister-Puce
Summary: AU. Secretary Bishop is pleased with Brandon fayette's progress in his latest series of experiments and invites him to a congratulatory dinner at a french restaurant. From there, a relationship blossoms, despite Brandon's reluctance. Thanks to everyone who reads this and everyone who has stuck with every chapter
1. The Intitiation

**Author's note**: This story takes place way before the episode the day we died, _IF_ you wish to place it, but I kinda envisioned them as they look in the 4th season. This has been re-edited and a few new things have been added.

I really, really loved/love writing this fic. It was one of the rare times in my life when I was really happy. I had so much fun doing the research, too.

**Disclaimer**: I don't own any rights to fringe. Don't sue me. Give me Walter :D

**Pairing**: Walternate/Brandonate. Bralternate!

**Rating**: (This chapter) T to be safe, really. A little naughtiness and tomfoolery.

* * *

Far a bissel libeh batsolt men miten gantsen leben.

* * *

04.07.2011

_"Today really sucked. But at least we made some progress. The downside is that we lost the subject. Tried to salvage some of the organs, but they had already been polluted. See, I thought that would happen but I had to take a chance. It's my ass on the line._

_Ate a full lunch that consisted of a turkey sandwich, potato salad, juice and some caramel chews. Man, I can really slap together a mean sandwich. I mean, for something so simple, it tasted awesome. Could have used more mayonnaise. Too dry._

_It was around the time when I was punching out that things started to go downhill. I never thought that I would have to consider filing a sexual harassment complaint."_

* * *

"Brandon! That was some impressive work today. If this keeps up, I may have to give you a raise." The secretary's smile was huge. Brandon's eyes lit up when he heard the word raise.

"Oh. I almost forgot. To celebrate, I rented a table at my favorite french restaurant. I've already invited your co-workers. Do you have time?"

"Uh-YEAH, I DO!" Brandon couldn't believe his luck. He didn't know what brought on this change of heart in secretary bishop, but he wasn't about to pass up a free dinner.

* * *

The young scientist sprinted down the sidewalk from the garage where he parked his car. When he ducked into the fancy restaurant (called l'ange bleu, which was part of a hotel) he was immediately set upon by the maitre'd, who looked suspiciously like the actor Dominique Pinon. "Good evening, Sir. How may I help you?"

"Uhhm...Yeah. I'm part of the secretary's party." It felt weird for Brandon to be saying that. The maitre'd held out his hand. "May I see your identification?" Brandon gave him his show-me and watched as the man scanned it. "Ah. Please, come this way. The secretary has been expecting you."

Brandon followed him through the dining room, passing all of the people as they made their way down a short flight of stairs to a door that was partially hidden behind a curtain. The maitre'd slid a key card through a reader next to the lock and gestured for Brandon to walk in. When he did, there was no other soul in the room but for secretary Bishop. Fayette looked back over his shoulder just in time to see the Maitre'd shutting the door behind him.

"Um...Where is everybody?"

"We are Everybody," answered the secretary, sweeping his hands outward. "No one else showed up." Looking around the room, Brandon noted the...intimate atmosphere. Bishop said, "I hope you don't mind that I ordered for you."

"Oh, no. Of course not. I'm sorry I'm late."

"Never mind, Brandon. Come on. Sit." The secretary commanded softly. Fayette looked around the room and at the table but there were no other chairs. "Uhm...where?" The secretary's teeth gleamed, his eyes narrowed -and to Brandon's horror- he stiffly patted his thigh. "Come sit on papa lap."

"...W-what? " Brandon asked, not sure that he'd heard correctly- hoping he hadn't. Bishop chuckled. "It would be a shame if you were to lose your job. You DO you like your job, don't you?"

"Y-yeah. I love my job."

"THEN SIT YOUR ASS ON MY LAP!" Walter snapped. Brandon came to him like a shot. Fumbling, he sharply planted his bottom upon the secretary's thigh. Walter stifled the desire to yell, turning his face red. "There. That wasn't so bad, was it?"

"N-no, sir." Fayette lied. With one hand around Brandon's waist, he lifted a wineglass to his dinner guest. "Try the syrah. It's very good." Brandon sipped it and coughed. "Whoa!"

Brandon's head swam. What the hell was going on?

"Hah hah! Great stuff, huh? I hope you like guinea hen," The secretary referred to the $49.95 Main course. "Um. I've never had it."

"Well, there's a first time for everything," Bishop said darkly. He skewered a fork full of the juicy bird with moral mushrooms and held it to Brandon's mouth. "Have a bite."

"Oh, I-"

"DO IT."

"Yes, sir." Brandon took it in his mouth, dribbling liquid down his chin and blissfully closed his eyes. "Oh, That-That is-WOW!"

"I'm glad you like it." Walter did look genuinely pleased. Brandon reached for a napkin to wipe the mess off but Bishop intervened. "Here, let me get that."

"Ookaayy..." Fayette thought that he was at least capable of wiping his own mouth but before he could react, the secretary had extended his long tongue and licked the juice off. Brandon automatically removed himself from the secretary's person, saying. "HOLY CRAP! O-okay. um, I gotta go to the bathroom. um-"

"Let me accompany you."

"NO-no! I was wrong. I've gotta go home and go to bed. I'm out way late. I've gotta work tomorrow."

"You forget who I am. You don't even have to work, tomorrow. You can stay up all. Night. Long."

"OH, MY GOD! I Want outta here!" Fayette ran to the door but it wouldn't open. The senator's voice was irresistibly low as he told him: "It's locked, Brandon." The younger man glared at secretary Bishop, who walked casually out from behind the table. "There's no way out but up. Upstairs, on the 47th floor is the presidential suite. All the free champagne and caviar you could ever want."

"No way."

"You love your job, right? And you'll do anything to keep it?" Secretary Bishop asked him, face to face. Brandon was sweating as he thought long and hard about what he was going to say next. "The room service is on you, right?"


	2. Largesse

**Author's note**: I see this pairing really working. There is a reference to a role that Ryan McDonald (Brandon Fayette) played in a tv movie. See if you can spot it! (^ 3 ^)

**Disclaimer**: I don't own any rights to the tv show fringe. Don't sue me. Just give me Walter, already.

**Pairing**: Walternate/Brandonate. Bralternate!

**Rating**: T because I can.

* * *

Corvis Corax.

* * *

04.08.2011.

_"Okay, was last night a dream? Please, tell me that it was all just a sick dream._

_I woke up back home, at my own apartment, in my own bed with a REALLY awful taste in my mouth. How the hell did I get home?!_

_I can remember stepping into an elevator with Bishop after dinner, walking up a hall to the presidential suite...he offered me some brandy...THAT'S IT! He must have slipped me something! What would possess him to do that?! Did he...NO. NO, I don't want to think about it."_

* * *

"What the hell did you do to me?!" Brandon demanded an answer in a low voice after he cornered secretary Bishop, who stood there, eyes slitted and smirking. "Nothing terribly illegal, I assure you."

"I know that you dosed me and as we speak, I am running a series of tests tha-"

"You won't find anything."

"I'm gonna find the proof I need to convict you. I don't care who you are."

"Don't be so dramatic, Brandon," Walter said with his hands in his pockets. "Where were you before I took you under my wing, need I remind you?" Bishop ruthlessly prodded at an uncomfortable Brandon. "You patrolled the streets with a band of miscreants, hunting for vulnerable senior citizens to extract plasma from in order to sell it to...questionable clients. I haven't tarnished your 'spotless' reputation." Brandon gulped, feeling his face grow hot.

"Well, I'm not just gonna turn a blind eye!"

"And I don't expect you to," Said the secretary with an easy voice as he snaked his arm around to pat Fayette on the back. "You're a smart man, Brandon. That's part of the reason why I've taken an interest in you."

"Why are you doing this?" Brandon asked, his thick brow knitted. "What did I ever do to you?" That made the secretary laugh. "I'm not punishing you!"

"Then what would You call it?"

"Conditioning" Walter said enigmatically. Brandon blinked in confusion but the secretary reassured him. "You'll find out soon enough."

* * *

When Brandon collected the test results the next day, they were negative for any abnormality, aside from higher ALT levels, and the urinary analysis indicated elevated levels in protein and was positive for nitrates but that's not that bad. After he left the lab, Brandon saw a small, gift-wrapped package on his desk. Quickly, he ripped open the buttermilk yellow paper to unveil a 1885 copy of Edgar Allan Poe's The Raven with a textured cover illustration depicting the bird perched upon the silver-haired bust of Pallas. For a moment, Brandon couldn't contain his excitement, blurting out "Oh, my god!" with a gap-toothed grin but wiped it off in a flash.

* * *

The secretary looked up with wide eyes as Brandon burst into his office with the fragile book in his hand. "You aren't going to buy my silence!" Bishop's surprise was replaced by amusement. "Did it ever occur to you that I just simply wanted to give you a gift?"

"How did you know that I wanted this?!"

"I heard you voice your enthusiasm for collecting a vintage copy of it to your co-worker a few weeks back. I've got a friend who sells rare books and I gave him a call. I didn't use a lot of forethought so it's probably not what you wanted," Walter said with a surly scowl.

"No, It's awesome but..." Brandon cut himself off when he saw a coy look on the secretary's face. "...But I don't want it. You're not gonna bribe me." Bishop stood up and approached him, shaking his head. "Keep it, Brandon," He whispered and grasped The young scientist's hand. "I want you to have it."

Without thanking him, Fayette let his hand slide from the older man's and turned around to leave.


	3. a walk in the park

**Author's note**: Things start to warm up for Brandon and Walternate in this chapter.

**Disclaimer**: I don't own any rights to fringe, so don't sue me.

**Pairing**: Walternate and Brandonate. BRALTERNATE!

**Rated**: T for smexyness :3

* * *

Kaffee und Liebe sind am besten, wenn sie heiß sind

* * *

04.09.2011.

_"He was skulking around, outside the lab. I tried to avoid him but he caught me. Asked me if I'd be busy on this weekend. Of course I said I would be. What was I supposed to say? "Sure, I'm just going to be at home, all night watching TV. Alone." Yeah, right._

_I was a fool to respect him._

_Already got one bid on that book. Starting at two hundred ($25.95 s&h LMFAO) I'm hoping that I can get at least $400 out of it."_

* * *

"Hello?"

"Brandon, how are you? I just was wondering if you would like to take a drive with me to Battery Park."

"Uhhm...why?" Brandon asked skeptically. Walter laughed over the phone. "Because it's a beautiful day and I would enjoy your company."

"I dunno. I think I'm comin' down with somethin'..."

"What a shame. Will you need to take some time off?"

"I don't know." For a few seconds, nothing is said until Bishop broke the silence. "You there, Brandon?"

"...Yeah." He answered while standing in his living room, wearing a pair of pajama bottoms and a t-shirt. The secretary sighed. "Get well soon, then. Goodbye."

"Bye." Brandon hung up and tossed the phone onto the couch, where it would get lost in the cushions. "God," He said, scratching his side before glancing at the clock on the wall: 5:12 pm. Brandon swore under his breath and wandered into his bedroom to get dressed.

Outside, Secretary Bishop sat in his limousine, glowering up at Brandon's apartment building. His ear cuff played a droning report of the weather and news and his driver was trying to catch some shut-eye. To his shock, he spotted the object of his affection sauntering out of the foyer. "Edward. EDWARD!" The secretary tapped the driver's seat to wake the chauffeur. "Pull up beside Mr. Fayette, would you?" The man didn't answer but simply started the engine and did as he was told. It took a bit, but Brandon finally looked up from his touch phone to see the sleek, black limo slowly following him. He had to do a double take, though. The tinted window rolled down to expose Mr. Bishop's jowly face in a moment of pique. "No more excuses."

* * *

"Y'know, I was going to go grocery shopping," Said Brandon as they drove to Battery Park. Bishop gave him a look of disbelief. "Surely, not. You're not very exciting, are you?" His thick lips curled into a crooked grin. "Look, I've got more productive things to do than go sight-seeing with my boss. I don't have to take your crap," Brandon told him.

Walter tsked.

* * *

They walked around the park bosque for a while and talked -usually with catty responses- for about an hour. All the while, the secretary carried a black messenger bag. Eventually, he pulled it off of his shoulder and sat on a bench, waving Brandon over. "You hungry?" He asked as he retrieved a pre-sealed sandwich from the bag. Brandon answered "NO."

"I promise there's nothing fishy about these."

"Not convinced," Fayette said with his hands on his hips watching the secretary place tall cans of water and another sandwich on the bench beside him, waiting for his employee to join him. "Are you going to sit, or not?" Brandon strode over and plopped down ungracefully next to him. "You happy?"

"Thank you," Walter said and peeled the seal back on his sandwich. Whatever it was, it had lettuce on it.

Brandon just sat quietly and made the older man feel self-conscious. Finally, the secretary couldn't take it anymore, spattering some food about as he struggled to keep it in his mouth "Will you Shtop moping?"

"HEY! I'm not the one who drugged his leading scientist for sexual gratification!"

"I did no such thing!" Walter had a hard time eating and talking at the same time. "Whatever put that into your head?! I'm not an animal!"

They grew silent, again but a few seconds later, Walter bishop leaned over to whisper into Brandon's pink ear. "Although, I cannot say that I was not tempted."

Brandon stared daggers at him so hatefully, it made the secretary frown. "I surgically inserted a 2 millimeter silicone chip here-" He explained with quiet indigence, touching the tip of Brandon's backbone at the nape of his neck. "-And I placed a series of 8 micro millimeter microchips along the opitcal nerves of your eyes."

Fayette's face registered pure horror and he thought of the headache he had in the back of his eyes the morning after the dinner invitation that he had previously attributed to a hangover.

What secretary Bishop didn't tell him was that he also intravenously added an undetectable chemical into his bloodstream that would induce self-destruction if another chemical was introduced via hypodermic syringe and that the chips on his optical nerve could receive electromagnetic messages as well as store neuro activity. That and about the instrument embedded in his tympanic membrane.

Brandon's duplicitous employer uncrossed his legs nonchalantly and continued. "I need someone I can trust. Someone to infiltrate and conduct covert operations. A fidus achates. You fall right into that category, Brandon Fayette." His victim's expression calms. "You couldn't have just asked me?"

"We both know that I don't function in any such conventional means."

"All that trouble over this?" Brandon laughs. "I thought you were some kind of sex freak."

"I wouldn't rule that out just yet."

* * *

Back in the limousine, Walter retrieved a small, powder-blue, paper gift bag that he had hidden on the floorboard. It had tissue paper exploding from the top. "Here."

"What is this?" Brandon asked dubiously. (Edward the chauffeur had rolled up the partition to give them privacy.) Walter rested against the door and answered.

"I suggest you find out." Brandon did, against his better judgement. A bag of gourmet coffee, which he just turned about in his hands. "How do you like your coffee?" The secretary asked, rather suggestively. Brandon pulled a face. "Yeah, I'm not really that big on coffee."

"Oh, now you're just trying to irritate me," Walter said and Then sighed. "You know, you would be above all other agents should you decide to take up my offer. You'd have the highest clearance available. Well, besides mine."

Maybe he'd been wrong about the secretary.

"I'll think about it," Brandon fibbed before the secretary moved closer to him. "What's to think about? You would still be head of science division. You're not losing anything."

'You mean, besides my dignity' Brandon thought before Walter put his arm around him and softly said "Do it for me."

Fayette's hair prickled up on his arms. He knew that the promotion had to come with certain conditions, after all. The secretary turned Brandon's face his way with the tips of his long fingers and gave him a smouldering look. "You will do it." Brandon felt a stab in his chest as he watched the man's face come closer. "It would be disingenuous of me to say that I do not want to know the taste of your kiss."

"I'm pretty sure it tastes like spit."

"Shut up," Walter said and kissed him.


	4. The culmination

**Author's note**: In this chapter, things get a little graphic.

Thanks to my mysterious readers, Gooberpissp, Heather and Nosferatu's-cigarette-binge.

**Disclaimer**: I don't claim to own any rights to the tv show Fringe, the Royalton hotel or the 44 in new york, so don't sue me. I'm just tryin' to write a fanfic, here!

**Pairing**: Walternate/Brandonate. 'NATE!

**Rating**: T for sexually graphic (not too much, so don't nobody go and do something drastic) themes and the very fact that Walter and Brandon are just too hot to handle, ayk.

* * *

Ist das ein Knutschfleck an deinem Hals?

* * *

04.10.2011.

_"That bidder just bailed on me so I just canceled the whole transaction. I'm fed up with all of this crap._

_Before last night, I was certain that I was a skirt-chasing, red-blooded male but now...I don't know what to think. When secretary Bishop kissed me...I actually didn't hate it. If he was a woman, I would have definitely let him come up to my pad for a little night-cap. But he's not a woman. He's my freaking boss! And I'm not gay! God, I'm just trying to make sense of things. I am so staying in the closet NO, I was never in the closet, DAMMIT!"_

* * *

The conference at Royalton hotel came to a close and most of the stuffed shirts had already dispersed. The whole time, Brandon had avoided even looking at the secretary. He had done the same thing all week-long since that time in the limo and the secretary was acutely aware of it. Brandon had even pretended not to hear him as the secretary called to him in the halls of lab division. Walter had taken this with a grain of salt.

All Brandon wanted was a drink. As he ambled toward the 44 restaurant, he caught a glimpse of a familiar shock of grey hair. What was he still doing here? Before Brandon could sneak away, Walter had seen him. "FAYETTE!" His authoritative voice stopped Brandon dead in his tracks. Finally acknowledged, Walter gestured come-hither with his finger, watching his reluctant young friend approach. "The little game is over. Join me for a drink."

"It's late-" Brandon started and pretended to glance at his watch but Walter shook his head. "Not that again. You're a bad liar."

"I'm not lying."

"Sit down," Walter demanded calmly. Brandon slowly obeyed and ordered an Arnold Palmer, which Walter gave a disapproving frown to. He had a flute of dark port, himself. "All right. I'm here, now. What do you want to talk about?" Brandon asked tersely. Walter said, "Oh, nothing in particular. Why don't we move over there?" He moved his head towards some more secluded tables. Brandon sighed and got up to do just that but as the secretary stood up with him, he bumped into him, spilling the port all over the front of Brandon's crisp, white dress-shirt and suit.

"AW, WHAT THE HELL?!"

"Oh, I'm so sorry!" Bishop exclaimed, reaching for a napkin. Brandon was seething. "You did that on purpose, Didn't you?!"

"Don't be ridiculous. It was an accident," He answered deceitfully as a few people looked on.

Brandon suddenly remembered who he was dealing with and kept his mouth shut, but his face did the talking for him when the secretary said, "Here, come up to my room and we'll see if we can't find you another shirt."

"No offense, Sir, but I'd rather not."

"That wasn't a request," the secretary told him with a grin.

* * *

Brandon's mouth dropped open as he set his eyes on the sumptuous design of penthouse 'A'. The secretary gave him a wry wink and closed his jaw for him with his finger. "I'll just be a minute. Make yourself comfortable."

"Okay," Brandon murmured as the older gentleman went into another room and soon came back out with a wet, soapy washcloth. "Let's see if that'll come out."

Taking ahold of his shirt, Walter scrubbed and scrubbed but it only lifted a little. "Damn."

"Don't Worry about it," Brandon protested and took the cloth only to have it snatched back. "No. It's my fault. Here, take that off." Bishop began to unbutton his shirt for him and Brandon felt terribly nervous. "Hey-what-Let me do that," swatting at the secretary's hands a little.

'_I shouldn't feel embarrassed to be shirtless in front of another man! What is wrong with me_?' Brandon thought but he had every reason to be with the salacious way Walter bishop was staring at him right then.

In a very tiny voice, he heard his admirer say, "Oh, you've got it on your skin, too." Brandon ached to run but something made him stay. "You can put that on the chair." Walter referred to his suit jacket and shirt before coming closer, extending the cloth to touch Fayette's chest. Brandon's nipples stiffened. He couldn't believe that he was letting this man do this. Was it to keep his job, or what he feared the most? He looked away, trying to keep his pulse steady but he had no power over it when Walter ran it over his nipples, gently scrubbing the liquor away.

He could hear his employer's breath. "I'm sorry that I'm so clumsy," He apologized for such an obvious 'accident' and stopped. Brandon felt relieved, watching Walter toss the cloth on the floor but then he took the tie from underneath Brandon's suit collar and wrapped it around Brandon's neck to pull him closer.

"W-wha-"

"Hushh," Walter stopped him short and leaned into a wet kiss. Brandon did not reciprocate and licked his lips like he had to clean them. "NO!" He continued to fight back feebly. The look that Bishop had in his eyes now was so lascivious that it scared Brandon. The secretary began kissing his neck and shoulder, down to lick the port off of his other breast, biting his nipple lightly but Brandon stumbled back. "Stop it!"

"Why? You like it."

"N-no, I don't," Brandon said but Walter only smiled. "I can always tell when you're lying."

* * *

Brandon couldn't believe that he had come to this. There he was in that penthouse being kissed and squeezed by the secretary of defense on top of a fur comforter. The squeaky, soft, damp kisses of Walter Bishop. His heart was racing as the gentleman stroked his stomach and partially exposed hips. He could smell his companion's expensive cologne and shampoo and it was exciting him beyond anything he'd ever felt with a woman. How had it come to this?

* * *

"Good morning, Inamorato." The curtains drew open, flooding blinding sunshine onto a squinting Brandon Fayette. Walter's face was beaming. "Hungry?"

* * *

Berries in whipped yogurt, Orange juice and "Rosé champagne? Isn't it a little too early for that?"

"It's never too early for champagne," Walter answered, Pouring some into Brandon's empty juice glass. Brandon laughed before his companion put a dipped berry into his mouth. "Mmmh," Brandon guffawed. They lay on the bed wearing plush, white robes. Walter cocked his head at Brandon and bore his huge teeth, his cheeks a little a flush from laughing. "I'm so glad I chose you."


	5. No rest for the wicked

**Author's note**: I wasn't gonna make a 5th chapter but I got an idea. I want to say in advance that this fic was not inspired by any of the dream theories in the show. I just thought of it 'cuz of Brandon's silicone implant. Thanks again for reading this story, Gooberpissp, Heather and Nosferatu's-cigarette-binge and all of my future readers. It means a lot to me (｡◕ ▼ ◕｡)

So now, I am making this an 8 chapter story

**Disclaimer**: For the last time, I don't own any rights to Fringe or filofax. Do not sue my ass.

GIMME MY WALTER, DAMMIT! (ノಠ益ಠ)ノ

**Pairing**: Walternate/Brandonate. Bralternate. B.R.A.L.T.E.R.N.A.T.E.

**Rating**: T for dirty, literary depictions of smex and stuff I wish I could write with a T rating and get away with but can't, so It's not here sort of but other people pull things like that off with a K rating but I would get killed for it.

* * *

Os ydw i'n breuddwydio gadewch i mi byth yn deffro, Os byddaf yn effro gadewch i mi byth yn cysgu.

* * *

04.11.2011.

_"Things have gotten really awkward at the liberty building. I can't go anywhere without seeing him. Everybody is suspicious. He gets too close to me and whispers in my ear like some sort of freaking schoolboy. We almost got caught making out...making out... with Walter. I can't believe this is happening. I mean, I never thought that I would like a guy...Let alone an older guy. This is just too twisted. Where is this going to go? He does sort of still creep me out. I don't know. he's not that bad. Maybe I'm just too hard on him...I don't know. Maybe I do have real feelings for him. Last night, when he was lying next to me with this dumb, satisfied expression. I couldn't take it so I rolled over to sleep and he...he put his arms around me...Wait, who am I kidding? This is Secretary Bishop that I'm talking about! He's just using me and I have no choice. Maybe he made me feel good but that was just me, being stupid. He's got to be up to something. Plus, I've been having these incredibly realistic...nightmares. When I wake up from them, my clothes are soaked with sweat and...I don't even want to say what they're about in my own filofax. Let's just say they're pretty surreal."_

* * *

All is awash in midnight, like the world is being viewed through an ultramarine lens, tiny candles flicker in the breeze. A storm is approaching from the south as the young lab technician and his incumbent beau subagitate on a sheet covered mattress that lays on the granite floor. Their desperate fussing echoes off the tall masonry and surrounding wilderness. He paints blood across the straining back of the boyish man on top of him, roaring laughter while chimes jingle and clink from somewhere nearby. White particles begin to fall from the sky but it isn't snow. It's ash. And the edifice that they have coition in is the ruins of the New York public library.

Brandon woke with a fright, panting with mussed hair. "Oh, god. This has gotta stop." He lamented while wiping his palm over his face. Turning on the bedside lamp, he saw that it was time to get up, anyway.

* * *

Isolating nuclei in an octylphenol ethoxylate surfactant buffer was not helping to clear his thoughts. Woefully, he placed the tube into the centrifuge and initiated the vortex and grew painfully aware of a hot, dull throb in the nape of his neck. "Ow! What the hell?..." Then the discomfort disappeared as quickly as it came. At that moment, it was as if he had forgotten the importance of what he was doing, there. Something just kept compelling him to get out of the lab, get out of the building and hop in his car.

Brandon left the room in an unfounded fury, abandoning the cycle and Frederick, (his co-worker) who had to put the tube on ice. Brandon didn't know where he was going. He didn't notice or care. He just drove and he wouldn't remember any of this when he came out of it.

* * *

"W-what...how did I get here?"

"You walked in, Brandon. How else?" The secretary chuckled as he handed him a creamy screwdriver. Monumentally bemused, Brandon took it without thanking him and looked around. It appeared that he was in somebody's home and it was night, outside. "Is this your house?"

"What a bizarre question. Of course not! Where were you these last few minutes?"

"I DON'T KNOW!"

"Are you alright, Brandon? Perhaps you better sit down." Walter felt his forehead before Brandon threw back the drink in a 5 gulps and coughs. "Stop that! I'm fine."

"You don't seem fine."

"Would you quit it? I just don't understand how I could black out like that...W-wait. You put that crap in my head. Did YOU do this?"

"NO, I DID NOT! Do you honestly think that I would have Implanted those kind of valuable implements just so I could impair your cognitive processes?"

"YEAH! That sounds just like something you'd do!" Fayette replied and Walter bore into him with such hostility that Brandon felt like running. But he stood his ground. "It sounds like something we've both done. You've got to Admit that."

Walter softened, blinking lethargically and looking away. Brandon watched him sit down wearily on the settee. "By instilling them, I sought to produce an advocate to our cause. Someone I could implicitly depend upon. It's clear now that I made a mistake."

"N-no, you didn't. I'm...I'm just really confused." Brandon held his head, feeling another headache coming on. "I didn't mean that."

"...Come here." The secretary said after a while, holding out his hand. When Brandon came close enough, he put his arms about him at the waist, burying his face in Brandon's stomach. "We need to assess the situation. Maybe something triggered a bug in your chip. I'll see to it."

"Okay...Look, I'm sorry tha-"

"Shh. No more of this." With his hand, he guided Brandon to sit with him. After he did, Walter kissed him with an open mouth and combed his long fingers through his paramour's umber hair. Brandon emitted a muffled protestation to no avail while Bishop trailed more kisses down his shirt to his jeans, unzipping Brandon's fly.

* * *

Laid out on the settee, Bionic boy dozed as Walter clung to his body, eyes jaded and damp. Carefully, he climbed over Brandon so as not to wake him and traipsed softly into another room.

Brandon rolled over onto his side, provided with more room and didn't hear Walter close the door behind him.

* * *

The secretary sat down in front of a glowing monitor, jumping a little as the cold aluminium touched his bare skin. The nicating text on the screen simply read:

RNM: Stable Disable

ELF: Disabled Enable

ULF: Disabled Enable

Walter hovered the mouse over 'enable' and clicked.

* * *

On the settee, Fayette twitched in his sleep and shortly after, dug his nails into the cushions and kicked a little. The secretary returned and kneeled on the floor below him, awaiting the NIS program to come to a close. In the meantime, he was fascinated by the way that Brandon reacted.

Fayette's muscles grew taught as his chest rose and fell rapidly and beads of perspiration broke out upon his forehead. Walter soothed his brow, whispering almost inaudibly "It's a necessary step, my love." And to his amusement, Brandon began to humiliate himself in ways he most definitely would not if he had known the secretary of defense was watching. But it wasn't long before Brandon screamed and kicked him square in the throat. Walter struggled to breath for a moment, sprawled across the carpet. With one more scream, Brandon woke himself up, absolutely exhausted. Spotting the curious sight on the floor, He didn't offer to help. Walter rasped sourly. "You punched me in the wind pipe and kicked me off."

"Sorry," Brandon said with not one bit of remorse. "I was kinda' having a NIGHTMARE!"

"Are you okay?"

"NO!...I guess. I dunno." His chest felt sore. Walter got up and held him. "I'm going to get this fixed tomorrow."

"Yeah. Whatever. I think I'll go home."

"No. Stay with me, tonight. I can give an injection of midazolam to make sure you get some sleep."

"I'm fine." Brandon sighed and went to get a glass of tap water. As he did, Walter teased "It didn't seem like a nightmare to me."


	6. surreptition

**Author's note**: I'm so glad that people have requested more chapters. It makes me so happy (◉ε◉*) Hugs to everyone who has read each chapter through （ｏ-ω-）

A 7th chapter is in the works.

**Disclaimer**: I do not claim to own Fringe or the characters therein no matter how much I would like a few :}

**Pairing**: Secretary Bishop/Brandonate...

**Rating**: T for violence and mild language.

* * *

_Lachen mit yash-tsherkes_

* * *

5. 5. 2012 _**Bluverse/prime**_

_Strange things have been happening. I always feel like I'm being watched. Twice, I've looked over my shoulder and saw a guy in a suit, wearing a pair of black sunglasses. He looks like he stepped right out of M.I.B..._

_Is Sharp having me trailed? If so, why? I mean, it's not been that long since the lab staff had been put through our annual fidelity tests. They know I'm legit._

_God, I'm sick of this crap. _

* * *

_**Redverse**_

**F**or two weeks, the shape-shifter who had taken the life of the Secretary's top scientist was subjected to scores of scans. They did everything that they could think of to glean information from it but very little was imparted. It's a shame that the rigorous persecution had rendered the pathetic beings ability to form coherent words. For a brief time, Secretary Bishop had entertained the idea of keeping it for his own amusement but it was clear that it would be a sorry excuse for the original. And an even poorer conversation partner.

It wasn't like a human anymore. There was no longer any warmth in it's skin where there had once been, Bishop thought as he had one of his men open door to the holding cell. The translucency of it's dermis was mercurial ever since the remaining scientists finished their investigations. This thing was the parasite who had devoured any vestige of his departed lover save for his appearance.

The door had closed behind him as he entered the company of the facsimile thing but he was as good as alone.

Looking at what was left of it's sunken face, a memory came to surface. It was from a month before, when the night was cool and they had decided to leave the windows open before they went to bed. He had just drifted off for a second and turned over to see if Brandon was still awake but was seized with fear when he saw the cold, lifeless face before him. He was sure that Brandon had died. But when he shook him, Brandon spewed expletives and pushed Walter away in confusion.

It wasn't long before The secretary realized that he was sharing his nights with a lie.

With all of his pent up emotions, he stuck the shape-shifter across the countenance that he could no longer endure.

But all it did was stare.

"You repulsive, damn creature!" Walter spat and punched it so hard that it's upper lip split. Instead of showing pain, it desperately licked the blood plasma from the wound. "You are nothing but a shell. There is no pneuma behind your eyes... if such a thing exists. Least of all, the one that belonged to the body you now inhabit."

Secretary Bishop paced back and forth across the cement floor as the LED lights flickered. When he stopped, he appeared to have calmed down. His voice was soft and methodical but the twitch of the muscles of his face said otherwise.

"I know that you were only fulfilling the duties that were assigned to you by your officials but... we heard no sympathy in your admissions. We saw none in that... mask you call your face," He said before leaning closer. "But mark my words... You _will_ be sorry by the time_ I'm _through with you."

* * *

Later that evening, Secretary Bishop sat in an armchair, watching the rain batter the window. The street lights threw phantom shadows across his jowly face through the window panes. Soon, he would go out and step into an SUV with tinted windows. The night was balmy and calm, full of traffic and lights. No matter how subtle the diversity, this dimension always took some getting used to.

_**Blueverse/prime**_


End file.
